


Meaning Of

by StrawberriesxBeyond



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M, On Hiatus, might start rewriting this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberriesxBeyond/pseuds/StrawberriesxBeyond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Alphonse Elric's parents split up, and four years later he is sent to live with his father after his mother passes away. Now not only does Alphonse have to renew his relationship with his father, but his brother as well. Elricest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiss

What is a kiss? To caress with the lips in affection or greeting. This is the definition of kiss if you were to look it up in a handheld dictionary. To me, a kiss was something my brother and I would do, thinking it was a smart way of expressing our 'brotherly love' for each other. Seeing mommies and daddies doing it, we thought it must be normal for people who love each other. Mom thought it was cute at first, having such a strong bond. That was when I was four. Then I turned eight, and Mother suddenly changed her mind and told us that's not what brothers do. She hadn't exactly said it was wrong, but we knew something about it wasn't right.

We did stop. For like, a month. We didn't see any reason for us not to continue, as long as we didn't get caught doing it. It wasn't like we would go too far anyway, just a quick brush of our lips. It wasn't until fifth grade did Brother come home one day, wanting to try something 'new'. It hadn't been our usual peck on the lips that often didn't last very long. Instead it was lips over mine, then a tongue slipping in between. You can guess that when I felt a slimy wet muscle that wasn't my own invade my mouth, I freaked. I didn't know what I was doing, and honestly, I'm sure Brother didn't either.

I always wondered where he went, or what he saw to actually want to try that. Brother wasn't a very social person and his only friends were our neighbors, and even that wasn't a lot considering how far we lived away from town. We had always felt that we didn't need anybody else, just each other. It was more than enough for us. Mother took a habit of lecturing us about it, explaining that it was good to have friends and we weren't always going to be there for each other. I remember later asking, "Why not?" Why weren't we going to be there for each other? The more I thought about what she said, the more scared I became. Was Brother going to leave me like Father left Mother? They used to kiss too. Did that have something to do with it?

Even after five years, the thought had still scared me. It seemed childish, and you would think I'd know better, but even at sixteen years old, I was still haunted by nightmares of my only brother leaving me all alone in this big world to fend for myself. After the first nightmare, I turned into a leech, never leaving my brother's side. That was a difficult task for me since he was in middle school when I was a fifth grader. He didn't seem to mind though. When I finally was going to the same school, he actually didn't want me to leave his side. Brother suddenly became very protective over me. I didn't know if I should have been flattered, or insulted. It wasn't too bad, not to the point where I couldn't have my own friends. Really, that was the first year where I actually even had friends.

Now, I ask myself, what are friends? A person one knows well and likes. Either this definition is a lie, or I was not friends with the people I hung out with. In all honestly, no matter how brutal it is, I did not enjoy my so-called 'friends' and I most certainly didn't know anything about them, other than their names. If you were to ask me who my best friends were though, I would still answer with those names. I didn't like them, but I still trusted them and that was good enough for me. So good, in fact, that I allowed one of them to kiss me. Now this is where I bring back the definition of kiss.

It claims that it occurs in affection or greeting, but is that really true? When I kissed my friend, it was merely out of spite, nothing more. Now I've defied two facts. I kissed someone with spite and I dislike my friends. We can't always follow what we were taught. If we only ever did what we were told, then we'd be nothing but little robots. This was the reasoning I took to make myself believe that what Brother and I did was okay. It made perfect sense to me at the time, but now I'm starting to question my logic and just how dense I really was. I do admit, I'm very naive; I barely learned what it means to pop the cherry a year ago, and apparently it was weird that a guy my age doesn't-well, you know. I never felt the urge to do it in the first place, or at least not until Brother and I tried something 'new'.

That somehow turned into a big thing with Brother. Every so often he'd come home, drag me to his room, and ask if it was okay to try something 'new'. I never objected to the idea. I more or less welcomed it. I trusted Brother with all my body and soul and if he suggested it, then I was all up for it. I have to say, I was never disappointed. Our first kiss, our first touch... they were all perfect. Brother was always so gentle and caring, it was almost annoying how much he would treat me like a porcelain doll; a fragile being that you had to handle with care, something so easily breakable. Break. Such a funny word. Even in this little dictionary I hold with me now, there are so many definitions for that one word, all meaning so many different things. I look at these meanings, and I don't want to be labeled with any of them. If only Brother knew. I wasn't breakable-if anything, I wanted to be broken.

Masochism, self-loathing, call it what you will, it didn't matter how you looked at it, it was what it was. I didn't necessarily take pleasure in the idea of being in pain, but I did want something more aggressive, something that I wasn't use to getting. Brother was always making sure I wasn't hurting, whether it be from a scratch on the knee or a depressed thought plaguing my mind, it didn't matter; he was always there for me. When I think back I feel so selfish. He did so much for me while I-what? What did I ever do for him that could equal up to all he's done, all he's risked, for a pathetic human like me that's probably damned for the rest of his life anyway. What did I ever do?

I remember how it all ended. My birthday was coming up, too. It was a normal day for me, maybe not so much for Brother, considering he was attacked by a stray dog on the way home from school, but overall a typical day. As soon as I opened the front door to our house though, I knew something was wrong. My answers waited for me in the living room where I found Mom and Dad, a calm mask placed over their faces, but I could see it all in their eyes. The solemn truth lied within those pairs of crystal orbs, laced with stress, sorrow, guilt. I remember how rational they sounded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They made it sound like something that was easy to accept, like we would understand the reasons for what we thought was a stupid and unnecessary course of action. Why were Mom and Dad splitting up? Why couldn't they just stay together? It was something beyond our control, a will that we couldn't bend to our own desires.

I was so angry. I wanted to scream, cry out, let out my desperate urge to throw around punches, yell out obscenities to my parents' faces, just anything that would let out my growing rage. But I was more put together than that. I knew how to hold it in, to deal with it internally-and it turned out I didn't have to do any of that, because Brother did it for me. He threw his own temper tantrum, cursing out our parents, breaking some vases, and when all was said and done, he grabbed my wrist, dragged me out of the house, over a few hills, and then we just sat. Not particularly anywhere, we just sat. And then, we cried.  
That one night completely ruined my life. It literally mashed it up, massacred my mind, corrupted my emotions, tossed out anything important to me, and worst of all... the one thing that took apart my whole being, shredded me apart, just so ruefully destroyed me so easily and so quickly, like snapping a toothpick...

After having the audacity of-here it is, my favorite word-breaking me to mere shards, into little fragments, the fateful day came where I no longer had a whole family anymore. His goodbye to us was in the form of an argument. An argument that I didn't believe should have ever existed. The result was horrifying, not because we parted on bad terms, but because the only thing I got out of that war was losing more of my life. My one and only everything was taken away from me, the one thing that meant the most to me in the world. Just like that, he wasn't mine anymore.

Edward was no longer there for me. Like Father left Mother, Edward left me. What hurts me the most is how I saw it coming, and selfish me decides I can't let myself get hurt. After that night, the night we cried, I pushed him away. After one day, I was able to treat him so differently, so coldly. It hurt so much. How could I have done that? He did so much for me and that's how I repay him. With a cold shoulder and heated glares. That's how it went on, up until the moment when my father took Edward with him, and it hit me like a million knives piercing my heart. It wasn't worth it, pushing Ed away. I only felt worse.

My life went downhill from there. Father took Ed to some other city and three years later, Mother grew ill. This illness is what led me to sit in this very seat, in this very train, waiting to finally arrive at the destination already set out for me, with nothing but clothes in one luggage, and a backpack stuffed with as many belongings that would fit in, including a kitten that's not allowed on the train. All because Mother was sick. And all because Mother didn't make it.

Dead. "Not living. Dull; inactive." Hn, that much was obvious. A small sigh escaped my lips as my eyes traveled to the other side of the page. "What's the difference...?" I quietly wondered aloud. "A dying or being de-" A loud horn went off as I felt the train start to slow. 'Here already?' I looked out the window and was met with tall buildings, busy streets with cars speeding through it, lights flashing. I was really in the city now. No more grassy hills or rivers running by, or fresh clean air to fill my lungs. The freedom to just run through vast fields of land, gone. All taken away.

There didn't seem to be much to do in a city. You couldn't just run around outside because you were more or less going to get run over. If not ran over, then kidnapped, beat up in an alley, or robbed on the sidewalk. The dangers didn't end there. The possibilities were endless and the worse part was, it didn't always just have to be on the streets. Cities were big, therefore schools were big, and that meant lots of kids. Even at school, it would be just as bad. There were a such thing as bullies, and even gangs existing inside of schools, not to mention all the evil teachers and loads of drama that comes with all those eager freshmen and sophomores. Do you really think a guy like me, someone who has lived out in the country away from all the lights, big apartments, and masses of kids that are more than likely going to treat me like a freak, can live in an environment like that? I'm lucky if I'm still alive after a week.

It was a lot to take in, and in such a short amount of time, too. When the train pulled into the station and finally came to a stop, a felt my heartbeat pick up, anxious, yet dreading for what was about to come. When the train doors opened and people started to pile out with their suitcases in hand, I noticed that the majority of these people all had excited looks on their faces. Unlike me, they didn't take a train here against their will. These people came to find better homes, get a paying job, and start a new life. A good life, one they wanted. I came to live in a replacement home, learn at a foreign school, and start another life. I didn't want this, not like these people did.

My legs were shaking, and I struggled not to start hyperventilating as my feet stepped off the train and onto the platform. I took a nervous breath when I realized just how many people were there. How was I supposed to find my way in this mess?

When I looked around the crowd I couldn't find any familiar faces. I was keeping an eye out for any sign of blond hair and gold eyes. I had no idea if Ed still looked the same as he did four years ago, but I was sure my father still had his long hair and beard; he shouldn't be that difficult to spot. The real question was, would he recognize me? I don't think I've changed much, but I did grow out my hair, if that really makes a difference. For a moment I was hoping he wouldn't recognize me, that maybe he would never find me and just give up. I don't know what it was, but for some reason I didn't want to live with my father. Even if it meant not seeing Ed again, I didn't want to go through the trouble of making a new life for myself. I thought about it for a while, and I almost did leave the station until I heard a voice call my name.

"Alphonse." I jumped at the sudden voice and quickly spun around to find my father staring back at me. It took me awhile to gather my senses and come to face the fact that my father was really standing in front of me, and it finally clicked in my head that this was the first form of contact I've had with him since he left Mom and me. I should feel guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry - or at least, not to him. He's just as much at fault here, not just for having no connections with his youngest son, but also for just not being there. If he hadn't gone so far away, or would at least let us visit each other, I could have still had some kind of relations with Ed. It's been so long since I've seen him, it almost feels like I don't even know who he is anymore.

The sudden thought of Ed and knowing I was about to see him real soon got me excited, and I found myself smiling up at my father. He blinked and slowly smiled back, though it looked tired and slightly forced, but there was contentment in his eyes, making me feel welcomed nonetheless. When I realized I hadn't said anything and we were just standing there I started to feel uncomfortable and awkward, so I tried to break the silence.  
"H-hi, Dad." I stuttered out.

"Hello Alphonse. It's, nice to see you, again." He replied. I internally sighed at the formality of it; he still called me Alphonse. Breaking this ice was going to take a long time. "Here, let me get those for you." He reached over to take my bags from me and gestured for me to follow him as we made our way through the crowd. There was a lot of pushing and squeezing as we maneuvered through the throngs of people. We were almost out of there when some man crashed into my father, then out of nowhere there was a mewling sound. I quickly made a noise to try and cover it up, but only succeeded in embarrassing myself when it came out as a cross between a squeal and a whimper. My father turned back to give me a strange look.

"S-someone stepped on my foot!" I blurted out, very unconvincingly. What can I say, I'm a terrible liar. My father just nodded his head before continuing our little journey through smelly, rude, overweight people.

I sighed in relief when we finally left the station and my father led me to his car, which I have to say was very nice. It looked brand new, like he bought it just that day, fresh out of the lot. No scratches or blemishes of the like could be seen on the sleek, black surface that shined in the the sunlight. Even the inside was kept nice and tidy, with its leather seats and touch screen radio. I was on the verge of a headache just sitting in there because of the 'new car' smell it still seemed to possess. This luxury car could only mean my father had a lot of money, being able to not only afford such a vehicle, but also keeping it in such good shape for who knows how long.

I decided to sit in the back instead of up front with my father. I still wasn't comfortable enough yet to sit next to him, and I'm sure he would've felt just as awkward. During the ride I stared out the window, watching everything speed by. I couldn't believe how fast everything was in the city, and I don't just mean the cars. The people were just as quick, and even the time went by faster, but maybe that was a good thing since my father said it was a thirty minute drive to get to his house.

I had been looking up another word in my dictionary when my eyes started to feel heavy as the soft vibrating of the car and the music from my iPod started to lull me to sleep. The words I read blended together and nothing made sense anymore, so I put my book aside and leaned back in my seat as my eyes closed, and just like that, I was gone.

'"I'll see you tomorrow, Al!"

"Yeah, bye, Winry!" I waved goodbye as the blond and I parted ways for the day.  
I hurried down the dirt path lined with fences that led to my house, wanting to go home and see my mother as soon as possible. Her fever had been unusually high that morning, but she wouldn't let me stay home to care for her. All day I was worrying about her, and I couldn't concentrate in class, earning me a few lectures from my teachers. They didn't know about her. How Mother was sick. No one did.

When my house came into view, I sighed in relief, running the rest of the way to the front door and yanking it open. I didn't stop to realize the door was unlocked when it usually wasn't. I entered the house, throwing my backpack in the corner and slipping off my shoes.  
"Mom! I'm home!" I called out. I came into the living room and was surprised to see the television on, white and static noise pouring out while the snowy screen raged on. Did Mother come downstairs? She wasn't supposed to, she knew that. I reached for the remote sitting on the coffee table and pressed the power button, still unnerved that it was on. I didn't bother to check the rest of the house, quickly making my way upstairs to my mother's room.

I peeked in and was met with an empty bed which was neatly made, like it hadn't been touched. I frowned, feeling a wave of panic wash over me. I took a deep breath to try to stay calm and left the room to search for her. I checked the bathroom, back downstairs in the kitchen, outside in the garden, but still no sign of her. Then I realized I hadn't even bothered to check the other bedrooms upstairs. I rushed over and went to my room first, reaching over to turn the handle - it was locked! I jiggled it some more to no avail. She must be in there! Why else would it be locked?

Before I could do anything, something slammed from behind me, making me jump up and quickly spin around. Down the hallway, a door was gently swaying, slowing to a stop when the hinges wouldn't allow it to move anymore. My heart still pounding, I cautiously crept to the room, wanting so badly to just run out of this house, but I knew that wasn't an option; I had to find Mother. I promised to take care of her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of walking, I was in front of the room, and as I gazed inside I realized this use to be Brother's room. Something about it was different though. All of Brother's possession were still in the here, right where he had them arranged when he and Father still lived here. I hadn't noticed my feet moving until I found myself standing in the middle of the room. I walked around the room observing everything, recognizing the posters on the walls, the books on the shelves, smiling at the teddy bear innocently sitting on the bed. The smile dropped though when I turned to his nightstand where a picture in a little frame stood. I knew what the picture was supposed to be, but it was wrong. The background was intact, but the two people in the photo weren't. I carefully picked up the photo and something inside me chilled. Edward and I could no longer be seen, instead just our silhouettes.

My spine tingled when the chill came again and the hair on my neck stood up. Suddenly the picture changed right in front of me, everything turning white, only leaving Brother's figure. Then a wide, white, grin stretched across the silhouette's face. I gasped, dropping the photo and backing away to the door, when I felt something grip at my arms and face, pulling and yanking me. As I fought against the tight hold, breathing heavy, and tears freely springing from my eyes, I let out a piercing cr-'

I jumped up in my seat when a loud sound jolted me awake. I looked over to see my father silently cursing and I realized that the sound was coming from someone honking their car horn. Another reason to hate the city: more cars meant more loud and unnecessary noises. It was so much harder to get around with all these crowded areas, and to think, all these people went through this everyday. It must get annoying-I mean, I'm already annoyed and I've only been here for about twenty minutes. I couldn't wait to finally get ho- to my father's house. A bed sounded really nice right now.

"Alphonse." My father called me. I looked over curiously, not sure if I should be dreading whatever he was about to tell me. It was a little weird for him to be talking to me, especially the way he started it out. It was obvious he was about to inform me about something, not just start small talk. I admit, it did made me nervous.

"Hm?"

"I think I should tell you now, your brother won't be there when we get there." Something inside me died a little hearing that.

"O-oh. Why not?" I tried not to sound too disappointed, but that was difficult to do when I felt, well, beyond disappointed.

"He's on some kind of school trip out of the city. It was a once in a lifetime chance and I just, didn't have the heart to ruin that for him."

"Oh. T-that's alright. I'm sure, Mom would have wanted him to enjoy it." When I said it, I tried to say it with understanding, to convince my father that I really was alright with it, then I realized, I was actually trying to convince myself. I felt like bursting to tears at that moment, but I knew I couldn't do that. At least, not in front of my father. "Do you know when he's coming back?" I didn't want to sound desperate, but I had to know.

"Don't worry, he'll be back on Wednesday. Just a few more days." I still felt like I couldn't wait a few more days, but I still clung to that little bit of comfort knowing I would see him again soon. That dejected feeling still lingered, and I knew it wouldn't go away until I saw Brother, so I tried to ignore it as best as I could. Not even an hour has passed since I've been here and already I'm off to a bad start. The only thing that kept me sane through this whole ordeal, the only reason I was even willing to come out and live here in the city with my father, was now not going to be here, when I most needed him.

My theory on having a rich father was only further proven correct when we pulled up into his house. Yes, it was very big, but that's not why I say my father must be rich. Just seeing the structure and paint of this house was convincing enough. And just to boggle my mind even more, there was a man working on the front lawn, which too, was very carefully crafted and kept. It was ridiculous! Now I was afraid to see what the inside would look like.

As I stepped out of the car, I gawked up at the house that was towering over me. I vaguely wondered if I would die if I were to stand on the very top and jump off. I started when I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked to the side at my father who was lightly smiling down at me. "Welcome home, Alphonse." He said softly. Hearing those words made my mind go blank, and I started to get a hollow feeling that spread throughout my being as I absently stared off into nothing. Home. This was my new home. "Why don't you go ahead and step inside. I'll get your bags." Still staring, I merely nodded and before I knew it, my feet were moving, taking me to the front door and inside my new 'home'. I finally snapped out of my stupor after seeing the interior of the house, and instead of that hollowness, I felt anger.

There were vases and sculptures, end tables, paintings, fancy rugs and carpeting with frilly curtains to match. Paint stuck to the walls neatly, like they were born with the colors. A flatscreen, a stereo, surround sound. If you were to look up, you'd find a chandelier dangling above you. Expensive furniture innocently sat there as it showed off it's stain free material. Where the hell did my father get the money to afford all this? If he could really waste his money on shit like this, then why didn't he help us? Give his money to a good cause, maybe think about someone other than himself for once. If he had just donated a little portion of his savings, then maybe Mom still might be here. We could've paid for her medical care, put her in a hospital. She at least could've had a chance.

The more I took in the decor of the house, the more my resentment grew. I briefly glanced over at the staircase and scoffed as I realized it was probably the only normal thing in the house, and then I did a double take when a flash of gold caught my eye, and then the staircase wasn't so normal anymore. I looked back over and found what caught my attention. Pictures in fancy frames lined the wall at the staircase, and though most of them were paintings, I still found photographs that were able to catch my attention. I walked over to the decorated wall and stood in front of one frame in particular. I gazed at it for a long while, to either savor it or just hope it would come to life, or probably both, I wasn't sure.  
It was a picture of my father and Ed. I knew it was taken a while back, when they had barely left Mother and I. Ed still looked thirteen there, not to mention that's how I remember him, and I was sure he didn't look exactly the same as he did when I last saw him. Something about the picture though was off. Ed looked different, not himself. You could see it in his eyes, and the way his lips tilted down, not his usual frown. What he was feeling at that moment was much deeper than just ordinary sadness. I faintly wondered if he still looked like that now. Would his eyes have that same dark hollowness to them? Would he have an everlasting frown set on his lips? Would he really just look-dare I say-dead?

Or would his eyes shine with brilliance, with upturned lips that proved he's had a wonderful life with no strings attached? For some reason, I didn't like the thought. I know it must be wrong to not want my brother to feel happiness, but I still felt a sense of betrayal at the idea of him living a happy life while Mom and I had to suffer and endure on our own. I know it's selfish, but I couldn't help it. It just wasn't fair to me if Brother was living a good life while I suffered everyday from stress and loneliness. From the moment Mother grew ill I dedicated my whole life to making her better. I took care of everything in that house. I did all the cooking and cleaning, making sure Mother stayed in bed and didn't do anything to over exert herself. I got a job at the only place that would hire me-the grocery store-to keep food in the house, buy Mother's medication and pay for bills, all the while struggling to keep up with school. It was, to say the least, a terrible way to live at such a young age. I had to grow up faster than I normally would have, and learn things that I shouldn't have to know about for another three or four years.

I turned away from the picture, not wanting anymore bad thoughts to invade my mind. Not to mention, the more I stared at it, the more it reminded me of the picture in my dream. Ha! Dream, it was more like a nightmare! A stupid stress induced twist of my imagination that refused to leave me alone. It was always there, even when I wasn't sleeping. It still lurked in the depths of my mind, where all the dark fears and truths lied when I was simply the innocent Alphonse Elric who was sympathized by the foolish. Only when I was alone and in the safety and privacy of my own mind did those fears and truths leak out, no longer innocent Alphonse, but the corrupted one surrounded by fakes and liars who didn't understand. I sometimes wondered if anyone really cared, or if it was just a well practiced facade they put on for show.

I didn't want their sympathy either way, whether it was real or fake. No matter what, it still felt like nothing but pity, and pity was something for the weak and pathetic. I refused to be classified as something a person would feel obliged to feel sorry for just because they've never been through the same experiences. If they really felt sorry they would get up off their asses to do something about it, not just stand by and watch.

It never mattered to me either way. The only opinion that ever mattered in my life was Mother's. It was her happiness and gratitude that assured me everyday that everything was alright, and it was all going to be okay in the end. With her there, I felt I didn't need anyone else. I was content with the way things were, not bothering to complain or whine when the going got tough, because if this is the way God wanted us to live, then so be it.

Of course, this was the lie I conjured up for myself to have some grasp of faith that not everything in my life was over. For a while, after my father and Ed left, I really did look to God for some kind of guidance, praying every night and asking for a miracle. That ended after Winry's parents passed away, and when Mother grew ill. This never stopped Mother's belief though, if anything it strengthened it. When I told her, she was disappointed knowing I no longer believed in any kind of God, but she openly accepted it, even going as far to tell me how my father never did either. Instead, he believed in science.

Being good in science seemed to run in the family. I use to always get straight A's in it and Ed loved it even more than Winry's apple pie-or at least he did. How much did Ed really change? Did he still enjoy the same things? Will I even know who he is when he returns? Some people have told me that I've changed. I didn't see it before, but when I finally took the time to sit down and just think, I realized they were right. The first noticeable difference would have to be my grades. At one point I was even failing my science class, and my teacher even took time out of her day to confront me about it. I couldn't help it. How do you expect me to concentrate on a subject that reminds me of all the times Brother and I snuck into my father's office to look at all his notes and research? It was like showing a woman a picture of her deceased husband dead and bloodied right after the crime took place.

I know I might be exaggerating this, I mean I can't be the only kid who's been through this, but it just hurt so much. Brother and I were so close. When he first left, it was so hard for me to accept that he was was really gone. For two whole weeks, I stopped eating, sleeping, doing school work, and chores, I even stopped speaking to Mother. I was dwelling in this never ending sorrow, caught in my own self-pity, letting it eat away at me slowly. I knew what I was doing, that I was not only hurting myself, but the others around me as well. Still, I didn't care. If I had to suffer then why shouldn't they? It was like they didn't even feel the hurt and lost I felt, like they didn't care.

In the end it was Winry who pulled me out of my pit of depression. A good screaming and bonk on the head with a wrench finally brought me back to my senses and made me realize how selfish I was being. Though I still ached, I tried to cover it up as best as I could, and continued to act as my normal, happy, go-lucky Alphonse self. But that's all it really is: an act. Just like all the people around me, I put up my own facade everyday just to please those I cared about. I hated having to pretend, to make everyone believe that nothing was wrong with me. I think what I hated more was how no one saw through it. No one noticed the lying mask I put up to trick everyone into thinking I was still the same old Alphonse.  
A liar. I wasn't the only one, right? Were Father and Mother liars? What about Winry, and Aunt Pinako?

Was Ed a liar?

It makes sense if he is, I mean if I turned into one, why wouldn't Ed? Maybe he put on his own act just like I did. It wouldn't surprise me. Like I said before, what if he changed just like I had? I guess I would just have to wait and find out. For some reason though, I think I'm better off not knowing at all.

"Well, Alphonse, why don't I give you the grand tour?" I jumped slightly hearing my father's voice. That seems to be happening to me a lot lately. He had a reassuring smile on his face when I gazed over at him. I smiled politely and nodded as an answer.

The kitchen and living room were downstairs. There was also a dining room and a den, along with a bathroom, a laundry room-it contained a laundry shoot and I ended up freaking out because I had never seen one before-an office, and even a game room. There was a sliding door connected to the dining room that led to the backyard, and though it wasn't the vast fields back at home, it sure was something. There was a tall tree that was planted in the middle, giving plenty of shade. A cute bench sat under it and off to the side was a little pond filled with lillipads and fish, with stepping stones leading to it. There was a rock wall bordering the yard, and along that were colorful plants that seemed to attract birds and bees. The grass was lush and even, and it looked so soft I wanted to just lay in it all day. When I looked to my left, I was amazed to find a swimming pool there as well. The only swimming pool I ever had was the river back at home. I didn't have time to look at the rest though when my father ushered me back inside to show me upstairs.

Of course upstairs was just as big as downstairs. My father briefly showed me the master bedroom first, informing me it was his room and the only time anyone but himself was allowed in there was if something was wrong with the other bathrooms and the one in his room was needed. I wondered why no one else was allowed in, but I didn't ponder on it too long. I was too busy awing over the library. There was a room dedicated to just musical instruments too! It had everything! I tried not to look so excited, but this was just too cool. It was such a big change from my old home, I was still struggling to process it all.

Next were the bedrooms. There were originally two guest bedrooms, but now one was my room. I was able to choose which one I wanted, so I went with the one closest to the bathroom. It just seemed more convenient. It also happened to be right next to Ed's, and that was the last room my father had to show me. Of course I wanted to see what Brother's room looked like, but I didn't get a chance because my father thought it would be a good idea to situate all my belongings in my room while he prepared dinner. So that's what I did.  
I was in the process of emptying my bags when I heard a loud whine coming from backpack. I gasped and quickly unzipped it, chuckling when a white kitten with orange and black blotches sprang out. He wobbled around for awhile, not recognizing his surroundings. I gently pet him along his back before he found my hand and decided to cling onto it with his claws while he bit down on my skin. Smiling to myself, I played along and made a claw of my own, gripping onto him and slightly shaking my "claw" while he kicked me with his hind legs. That was always the one thing I disliked about kittens. They were extremely playful. Sure they were fun and cute, but it sometimes got annoying when you weren't in the mood, or when you were sleeping.

His name was Arthur. Winry named him for me. Besides Winry, he was pretty much my best friend. Kind of sad having a cat as a best friend, huh? I didn't mind though. There were so many benefits to having a cat as a friend. You can tell them anything and they won't judge you, they're great listeners, there always going to be there for you, and once they get to know you, they'll love you forever. To me, it was so much easier to be friends with an animal than a human. The only difference was having to feed them everyday and actually take care of them.

Speaking of feeding, I wonder what my father is making for dinner. I didn't even know he cooked. I picked up Arthur and sat him down on my bed, making sure to close my door on the way out. I went downstairs into the kitchen to find my father struggling to keep everything from burning while noodles cooked in boiled water and shrimp and vegetables sizzled in separate pans. I grinned behind my hand and tried to contain my laughter at how ridiculous my father looked. Did he really now how to cook, or was this really one of the few events where he did? Maybe he really was just bad at it.

I walked over, grabbing a spatula along the way. "Here, let me help." I went over to the pans filled with shrimp and vegetables and tossed them all around for a bit. I looked over to my father, smiling while he stared at me with a tired but thankful look. I turned away and instead gazed at the food I was stirring around. "So, fettuccine, huh?"  
"Yes, well, I thought I'd make something nice." He replied.  
"It is nice. The last time I had any was for my fourteenth birthday. Of course, that was..." When we still had money.

"That was, what?" My father asked. 'Now you've done it' I scolded myself. I'm so stupid. I'm not supposed to be holding any grudges, I should be thankful I'm allowed to stay here. What am I supposed to say now? Anything I thought of to finish that was rude, and as much as I would love to just tell him off and make him feel like the most awful and selfish person in the world-

"Was when Mother was still able to leave the house." Damn it, it wasn't supposed to come out like that. My father sighed from his place.

"Look, Alphonse, I'm so-"

"N-no! I didn't mean it like that! It's okay, really. Let's just, finish cooking, okay?" My father looked at me with slight confusion, but nonetheless did as I asked. Seconds passed before he spoke up again.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook." 'There's a lot of things you don't know about me'.

"Heh, I kinda had to learn with Mother being bedridden and all. I wouldn't allow her to cook or clean, so I did it all. I always enjoyed cooking though. I thought it was fun and I liked experimenting with different foods. It was like, science, except it tasted good." My father chuckled at that. I swelled up with pride at being able to make him laugh, if only a little. Maybe this wasn't going to so bad after all.

When the food was done and we were finally sitting at the table, I had a permanent smile plastered to my face. At the first bite my father showered me with thanks and compliments at how good the food came out, which only blew up my sense of pride even more. I was so surprised but never the less relieved at how well we got along, even after all those years of never seeing each other. I almost didn't want to finish my food because I knew that would mean heading off for bed. It had to come to an end eventually though and sleeping didn't actually sound that bad right now.

We cleaned up the table, and I offered to wash the dishes, being use to it by now, but Father sternly declined. We said our goodnights and as we made our way to our rooms, he stopped me on the way there, calling out my name. He told me how Mother raised me well, and how I was turning out to be a fine young man. I blushed while thanking him, glad it was too dark for him to see, and quickly rushed into my room.

I contemplated going straight to sleep but decided to change and set up a little before I did. I stripped down to my boxers and was about to dig through my bag for my night clothes until I decided to just sleep in boxers, being too tired and lazy to go through the trouble of finding the clothes and putting them on. I was about to dive onto the bed, ready to cuddle into those inviting not yet slept in sheets when I felt something furry brush against my leg, then I heard purring. I sighed, realizing I not only had to buy cat food, but a litter box as well. Too tired to put much thought into it, I gingerly picked up Arthur and carried him with me to the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out cold.

'I gasped, arching my back when a pair of lips nibbled at my ear, then trailed down to my neck. I tilted my head and leaned into it as they began to suckle and nibble on the hollow of my throat. My fingers were tangled in blond strands desperately tugging while my legs clung to a toned torso, firmly pressing clothed members together. Smooth hands ran across my body, putting pressure on certain areas and lingering a little longer than necessary on others. They slipped under thin fabric, riding it up over my abdomen all the way to my chest, revealing perky nipples. I cried out and squeezed my eyes shut when those hands found them and began pressing and rolling fingers against the swollen nubs

'The lips on my throat pulled away and I whimpered at the lost of contact. Opening my eyes, I was met with lust clouded gold orbs and bruised, plump lips, a light dusting of pink across their cheeks. The lips turned upwards and gave a slight grin before leaning over and placing them over mine. I returned the kiss eagerly, mewling when a wet muscle slipped in and moaning when the kiss was deepened. Hands snaked up my arms to grasp my wrists and bring them down over my head, then lacing our fingers together. Their hips rolled against mine and it made me even more breathless than I was before. As we pulled away for air, they nuzzled into the junction between my neck and shoulder, licking and kissing it softly as their hips put even more pressure on my groin. There was a tightening feeling in my lower abdomen and we both desperately ground into each other. I moaned out his name-'

I shot up in bed when a loud clap startled me awake. I was panting, a thin layer of sweat coating my bare skin, my blankets no longer wrapped around me but pushed away at the bottom of my bed. My loose hair clung to my skin uncomfortably, as well as my boxers, which weren't wet with just sweat. As I hesitantly glanced down, I groaned in frustration. There was a bulge but it seemed to be slowly diminishing, and I was only wet with precum. I sighed in relief that I hadn't actually came, yet I still didn't feel relieved. Something on my face tickled as I felt it roll down my cheeks, stopping midway. I reached up and gasped when I realized the tears were there. I quickly went to rid of them, harshly swiping at the unwanted droplets. They only caused more pain.

I took three deep breaths to try and calm myself down, just like Mother taught me, but on the last one it caught in my throat when there was a bright light and a loud rumble following after. I could hear the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window, accompanied by dirt and leaves. I wasn't expecting there to be a thunderstorm.

I looked to my left to find Arthur curled up with his eyes wide open, staring at the window. I reached over to pet him, knowing it was the only way I was allowed to cuddle with him and right now, I really needed some comfort.

There was a flash of light that came from the window and I braced myself for the boom that would follow, tensing up as I counted, "One, one thousand, two, one thousand..." I reached four and covered my ears when the sound still did not come. "Six, one thousand, seven one thou-" The deep rumble didn't start off as bad as I expected, but then the sound grew louder, and longer, lasting as long as it took to come. I didn't notice my whimpering until the drumming in the sky started to fade away. I tried to stop myself from crying, but I just couldn't do it! I just couldn't take all this growing anxiety anymore and I was tired of trying to keep it all bottled up!

For years now, I've been trying to hide it just to please others, but in the process it was only making me feel worse. I was unintentionally making myself sick and it was just too much for me to handle. It was only nights like these where I just couldn't hold it in anymore that I'd let it all out. Nights when something too big for me to handle was just dropped on my shoulders. I hated it. I hated death, and thunderstorms, and being alone. I hated that feeling of dread I got everyday when I walked home, the thought that something was missing, the depressing aura that lingered in my home. Most of all I hated the dreams.

Whether it be a nightmare or filled with pleasure, it didn't matter; I always woke up feeling the same. They reminded me of what is and what could have been. What I want my life to be, but can't have and what my life is, even though I don't want it. No dream was ever neutral anymore and as the years went on, they grew more and more intense. It went as far as me dying in them all. The first one to make me cry was still the worst, because it was the first time I woke up from a nightmare and Brother wasn't there to comfort me. Though I don't think I would enjoy telling him that he was the one to kill me in my dream.

As much as I hated the ones where Brother hurt me, I couldn't stand the ones where Brother pleasured me either. Those brought out a whole different onslaught of emotions, emotions I tried to hide more than others. No one had to know about the incestuous relationship we once had. We were still too young to fully understand that society didn't except such "sinful" acts. Like everything in my life though, that didn't matter anymore. It was over now. All the hugs and touches, the sweet "I love yous" that always meant so much more to us, the looks he gave me that always had me feeling so special and loved. None of that existed anymore.

To kiss means to caress with the lips in affection or greeting. To me, it was something Brother and I used to do as a way to show our brotherly love for each other. But, when did it stop being brotherly?


	2. Friends

What are friends? A person one knows well and likes. If this is true, then the only real friend I've ever had would be Winry Rockbell. I've known her since we were in diapers, and it's come to the point where I feel she's an older sister to me. We understand each other, know how to cheer the other up, enjoy each others company. When I needed to vent or was stuck in a sticky situation, Winry was the one I went to. Like a big sister, she was always there for me. Of course, what was a big sister without the childish bickering that comes with them? There's been times where an argument got a little out of hand, sometimes managing to pull us apart, but we always found a way to put our differences aside for the sake of our friendship in the end. That's how it was supposed to work, right?

We've seen each other at our best and our worst, from our most courageous moments to the most embarrassing. I trusted Winry and was completely comfortable with sharing my problems with her, and I hoped she felt the same way about me. I was proud to have a friend like her, and even though I'm hundreds of miles away from her, I hoped we stayed that way. In truth, the thought of losing a friend like Winry terrified me, because after all these years of feeling lost and alone without Brother, I felt Winry was the only one there for me. She was the only one I could take refuge in, the only person who I could be myself with. Until this day, Winry was the only one. I had no idea that would all change in a single day.

I woke up that morning still feeling tired, my eyes heavy and mind fuzzy as I turned over to check the digital clock on my nightstand. I groaned at the glaring red seven displayed on the small device, throwing the covers over my head, and shutting my eyes once again. I stayed like that for about ten minutes before coming to the conclusion that I was never going to be able to get back to sleep. I began to stretch as I sat up in bed, my stiff muscles protesting and my back aching from the movement. I sighed deeply, glancing at the end of the bed to find Arthur curled up against my feet. I smiled-probably a lopsided one-and sluggishly slid off the bed, being careful not to disturb the sleeping kitten. I shivered when the chilled air met my bare skin and that's when I remembered I was only in boxers. Still too tired to actually get dressed, I dragged my feet over to my bag and dug around for something quick to put on. I pulled out a pair of shorts and an old shirt with tears and holes that fit me loosely.

Incoordinately walking out the room, crashing into the door frame along the way, I headed for the bathroom. It was always a routine of mine back at home to use the restroom right after waking up in the morning. I guess it was no different here. Before leaving, I tied my hair up and made sure I didn't walk out looking like a complete zombie, even splashing some cold water in my face to wake myself up. As I went out and walked down the hallway, I realized I left my bedroom door open, and though Arthur was still sleeping, I didn't want to risk it, so I shut the door. The only thing that worried me was Arthur freaking out about being locked up and scratching on the door.

I noticed how quiet it was as I trailed down the stairs, how there was no radio or tv playing in the background, no doors being opened or closed. It wasn't that creepy dead silence like in the horror movies, but one with a sense of calm, that made you feel content to just relax and take it easy. It made me anxious. The familiarity of it brought back memories of when my whole morning schedule was full, and as much as I would have liked to, there was no time for resting. That's different now though, right? I don't have to wake up early and do chores anymore. I'm a teenager again, and I can finally live like one. Then why do I still feel nervous?

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I had to stop in my tracks as I tried to recall the layout of the house. The only rooms I was sure of were the kitchen and the living room. I tried my luck with the living room first and crept over to find my father sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper while sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up and surprise was written on his face as he stared at me.

"Alphonse. I wasn't expecting you to be up so early." I half-smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

"Old habits die hard, I guess." He nodded in reply, setting his coffee cup down on the end table to his left and folding up his newspaper, speaking just as he stood up from the couch.  
"Are you hungry? I haven't eaten yet, I could-"

"Oh no, it's fine!" I quickly interrupted. He gave me a confused look. "Let me. I can make something for the both of us." I insisted. I didn't know why, but I still felt bad for the way I acted, or more so the way I thought, yesterday about my father. He really was a good guy, and even though this is the first time I've seen him in four years, he was still the same man that once told me stories every night before I went to bed, who used to help me fly as I swung from a tire swing, or who helped me become a genius when he studied with me. He may have missed out on my growing up and hitting puberty, but the same applies for Mother and Ed. It may not have been her fault, or maybe it was, but she missed out on Ed just as much as Father missed out on me. As much as I wanted to at that moment, I couldn't just keep cursing him out of my life.

My father chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to. Consider it a thank you, for letting me stay here." He gave me a sad look, and I knew the reaon why, but before I could put much thought into it, I slipped into the kitchen and contemplated on what I would make for breakfast, looking through cabinets and the fridge, trying to memorize where everything was. I needed a distraction from everything, and if cooking was going to be the only way, then so be it.

As I scavenged through the kitchen, I noticed how organized it all was, like everything had a place. Now that I thought about it, this whole house was organized, not to mention clean. There was no way that was possible, especially with two men living in the house. They're not exactly the most clean beings in the world-and knowing Ed, well... Instead, I shrugged the thought off, and decided to just be grateful. It didn't matter if it was clean or not anyway, knowing me, being an exception to that "dirty men" rule, I would've cleaned up after all of us either way. Another forced habit of mine.

I opened the freezer, and I'm sure my eyes lit up when I spotted a bag of frozen blueberries innocently sitting in the corner. I heard my father chuckle, and I turned to see him gazing over at me. "I remember when blueberries were your favorite." He stated thoughtfully. I turned back and smiled fondly, thinking back to when I was little and how I used to have a knack for eating frozen blueberries straight from the bag. Sometimes I'd get a sour one that would make me twist my face, and Mother would laugh while Father encouraged me to eat more, if only to see that stupid face again. I tried not to though after Brother got mad at me for "stealing all the attention." Another one of our never ending, nonsense fights.

We fought so much back then, over a lot of stupid things too. Like, who would Father give a piggyback ride to first, who really won the race, or who was taller even, which I must say I was and possibly still am. Sometimes we'd even fight over who was the favorite between our parents. Those were the only ones where I couldn't hold my own, when everything Brother had said just sounded so true and brutally sincere. It's childish and most definitely not right, and somewhere in that innocent little mind of mine, I knew this, but I was too ignornant and young to stop and realize that Ed meant none of it. Maybe he did at the time or still does even, though I hope not, but that never stopped the disturbing thoughts that would continue to haunt me after.

When it came to who was Mother's favorite, I'd fight back just as viciously as Brother, not wanting to accept that Mother would like me any less than she did him. When it came to our father on the other hand... I just couldn't help but believe Ed was right. I knew Father loved me, but the way he treated me compared to Ed was just so different. If Father had found something interesting, Ed was the one he'd show it to first. If he brought something back from work, Ed would get the better gift. When Brother and I would make something, Ed's creation was always more appreciated. When Father came up with a crazy idea and decided to take one of his sons away to the city when he was leaving his wife; he chose Ed.  
I honestly believe, even to this day, that Father favorited-no, favors Edward over me, and this may be one of the only things I've ever held a grudge against Ed for as we were growing up, though I tried my best not to let it get to me. It was something I couldn't help but delve into - not to mention it was hard not to when watching your Father's eyes light up at the sight of your brother's A on an essay, and seeing it dim at the sight of a B on yours. How do you not let that get to you? After years of believing that you could never truly satisfy the expectations of the one person you yourself looked up to, he finally leaves with the favored child; the one who canmeet those expectations.

I used to try so hard to make him appreciate me, to get him to smile at my test grades or paper figures, the way he did to Ed when he'd do well at something. It always stayed the same though. Father still praised Ed like he just dropped down from space with new formulas on human time travel while all I got was a pat on the head for doing my best. Eventually I got tired of it, and though I didn't stop trying, I was less enthusiastic about it. It seemed the older I got, the less I really wanted to impress him, and soon enough I just forgot about it all together, even if it did still hurt. This was also around the time where Brother and I got 'closer' to each other. When not much else mattered in the first place.

If it weren't for me Ioving Ed so much in the way that I did, I'd blame him for the attention I felt I wasn't getting from Father. If it hadn't been for that taboo relationship we started so long ago, my jealously would've got the better of me from the very start. At one point, I even seeked out Ed's attention in place of my father's. It wasn't the same thing, but my heart still fluttered at seeing Brother's admiring gaze fixated on me. I always loved when Bother complimented me, though sometimes it was-

The sudden thought of Ed's old "compliments" made me blush and that's when I finally realized what I had been doing at that moment. I had somehow migrated from the freezer to the cabinets, blueberries in hand, staring up at a bag of flour on the top shelf. Had I seriously went to make pancakes without me realizing it? Jeez, I have issues. I put the bag of blueberries on the counter, and glared up at the flour, trying to figure out how I was going to reach it. Though I hate to admit it, these cabinets were unusually high - that's not an excuse - and I unfortunately cannot reach that top shelf. How does Ed deal with this? Oh right, he can't cook to begin with.

I stood on the tips of my toes, planting one hand on the counter to keep my balance, and the other reaching up, sighing in annoyance when my fingers just barely brushed against the bag. I brought my arm down and instead laid my hand down on the counter with my other one, getting ready to jump up until I heard my father call after me.

"Alphonse, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let me get it." I reluctantly stepped back to let my father grab the bag for me. He placed it next to the blueberries before walking over to another cabinet. "How about this," He started, "Since every time I try to help you out, you always end up glaring at me," 'I do?' "I'll go ahead and set up the table." Grabbing two plates from the cabinet, he walked over to pull open a drawer and pick up some utensils and left to the dining area. "I'll be over here if you need anything." He called.

Throughout the whole process of making the pancakes, I had heard very few cars, which I was grateful for, but there were birds chirping constantly. I couldn't help but become irritated by them, mostly because I couldn't exactly do anything to make them shut up. I remember how often I'd walk to Winry's house in the morning to find a group of birds picking on her dog, Den, and I smiled lightly at the memory. Den was definitely something else - not to mention Winry's baby. She really does love that dog, no matter how ugly or lazy he is.  
Thinking about Den reminded me of Arthur and how I still needed to buy him food and a litter box - even though I'd prefer he go outside instead of my room, but I couldn't afford to let him run around on his own. I really should tell Father about him, but then again, there's a lot of things I should tell my father about. When that will ever be, I'm not too sure, though some things I don't have a right sharing without Brother's consent. Like that will ever happen. The day Ed decides to tell our father that he used to make out with his little brother at the young age of twelve, will be the day I grope a woman's breast. It just couldn't possibly happen, not without causing some psychological damage on our supposed genius father.

If he is a genius though, I would've expected him to have found out a long time ago, unless he did and just decided to keep quiet about it. It was only normal for a man - or any parent for that matter, to feel uncomfortable about the idea of their two sons kissing each other; it wouldn't be unnatural to feel embarassed about confronting that kind of situation. It's probably why some parents act so rash when their child comes out to them about being gay, or anything for that matter. For this reason, I was still scared of knowing that one day, I would have to tell Father at least part of the truth, being that I didn't like girls. I've dreaded that day, for years now, ever since I first found out I was gay when I realized Brother wasn't the only boy I found attractive. The thought of having to say the actual words out loud to someone as abstruse as my father though, just made me so.. confused. Confused because I didn't know how I should feel.

Though I do feel better about it now, just accepting it yourself is a hard process; constantly thinking about not only your feelings, but others as well. I truly was terrified at first, and I didn't know who to tell or what to do. The mere mention of the word "gay" or even a simple conversation about a young couple with a newborn baby would have me on edge, making me pray that I wouldn't have to somehow confess that I would never be like that couple with a child of my own blood. It didn't help that I perfered being the submissive one in a relationship; the thought of being held sounding much better than holding. That was probably the reason why Brother dominated over me so easily.

You'd think I would've already known about my sexual orientation from the start after I first decided that kissing my brother was a nice thing to do after all, but what does a child know at the age of four? I hadn't even thought of Ed as "attractive" at the time. All I was thinking about was how much I loved Brother and how easy it was to convey those feelings with a simple touch of lips. It wasn't the same as sexual desire or preference, and it hadn't been for a long time. Part of me still sometimes wishes it had stayed that way, if only to bask in that sense of innocence our intimacy had once possessed. When it had all seemed so easy to get away with the supposed, simple acts. When we didn't have to be scared of everyone chastising or disgracing us, because even as children who found nothing wrong with it all, we knew they eventually would.

Mother did, but it was done sweetly, like everything else she did. She had even promised Brother and I that our father would never find out, knowing how delicate the subject was.  
It was the first time, out of many, that we didn't listen to our mother.

Brother had always had this uncanny ability to over analyze everything he was told and twist it around to better suit his needs. Mother telling us not to kiss each other anymore was one of those things, and I have to admit, the way she worded it did make it a little too easy.  
"That's just something brothers shouldn't do in public."

It was the reason why we decided to continue, but be more secretive about it. She did say "in public" after all. As long as we weren't in public and didn't get caught, it was okay, right? If only it were that easy.

~//~

Breakfast seemed to go by slowly, and we had eaten in silence. I had been a little worried when we first sat down to eat, still anxious for my father's approval on the food. Everything had seemed fine at first when my father took a bite of the pancakes, but I grew curious as I saw something light up in his eyes before it quickly dimmed and his lips barely curved down. His only compliment was, "It's good," sounding strangely sincere but forced, and then quickly digging back in. Throughout the rest of the meal I couldn't keep myself from thinking about the sudden change in behavior as I shifted my gaze between my father and the window where I saw the shifting clouds in the sky.

After breakfast I went back up to my room to check on Arthur, only to open the door and have said cat try and dash out. I instinctively reached down to catch him, and ended up grabbing onto his hips, struggling to pull him back as he cried out, so I could pick him up. He wiggled around in my arms as I rushed into my room and shut the door quickly, Arthur immediately jumping to the floor and bolting to the other side of the room. I sighed, walking over to my unpacked bags while mumbling, "Stupid cat," under my breath, and bending down to pick up my dictionary from its place on my backpack, along with my beat up iPod.

I left my room quickly to keep Arthur from trying to escape again, feeling bad for the poor kitten and reminding myself I had to get him some form of food really soon, and as much as I didn't want him going inside, I had to get him a litter box as well. He probably already po - I internally groaned as I realized he could start spraying in a few months. That was one big problem that I did not know how to fix, and I cursed myself for not thinking about it sooner. I didn't even have enough money to neuter Arthur, and I couldn't just go up to my father and ask for two hundred dollars without a plausible explanation. Maybe there really is a god up there, but instead of helping me out, he's trying to make me miserable.

Though he was still in the back of my mind, I forgot about Arthur when I found my father hurriedly slipping on a coat and grabbing his keys and phone from the coffee table. He hadn't seemed to notice me yet, and as I watched him look through his phone I decided to speak up.

"Where are you going?" I asked, from my place at the foot of the staircase. He briefly glanced over at me before continuing to tab at the touch screen.

"I need to take care of something back at my workplace." He replied offhandedly. I looked at him skeptically, but didn't question him. I didn't know where he worked in the first place, and for some reason, I didn't want to know. "Think you can take care of yourself while I'm gone?" He asked as he walked over to the front door. I only nodded as an answer, not really sure what else I could do. "Good." He said, opening the door. "I left some money on the table, just in case you want to order a pizza or something. Be back soon." He closed the door before I could say anything else, and I stood there dumbfounded.

For the remainder of the morning I went around the house searching for different ways to keep me occupied while my father was away. I had already washed the dishes, not bothering to use the dishwasher, and put them away in their respective cabinets. There was nothing else that needed to be washed, so I went to my room to unpack. I got distracted though when I found the "gift" Arthur left for me to clean up, and after finally being put up with the cat, I let him outside in the backyard, keeping in mind that I would need to bring him in before Father came home. Afterwards, I searched the bathrooms for air freshener, but easily grew bored after coming up empty handed.

Forgetting about what I was searching for, I left for my room, deciding now would be a good time to unpack. I started with my clothes first, tucking them away in the dresser that was a tad bigger than necessary for the little amount of clothing I had in the first place. There was still plenty of room left over, which slightly peeved me. I ended up placing the random objects that I had packed, refusing to throw them away, in the remaining space left over in the drawers, not seeing a reason why not to. I doubted I'd be getting new clothes anytime soon, so I might as well put the extra space to good use, if you call holding a bunch of junk, being of good use. I was going to continue unpacking when I realized the only thing left to put away now was the single photo I kept at the bottom of my backpack. It was slightly wrinkled, the white streaks that cracked through the poor coloring of the unkempt photo standing out against the bright scene.

It was taken a long time ago, on Ed's tenth birthday. Smiling brightly as we all sat in the grass, Ed and I were clinging to our mother, and Winry was pushing her way in as she leaned against me, reaching her arm over to make bunny ears over Ed's head. I smiled fondly at the memory, wanting so badly to get caught up in the moment as I gazed at the pleasant scene, but I knew it wouldn't do me any good. It wasn't going to bring me back to the times where I didn't have to worry about responsibilities or being alone. I wasn't going to magically be young again when my only fear were the monsters lurking beneath my bed and in my closet. I needed to move on and accept the fact that I couldn't relieve such a seemingly perfect childhood that no longer existed. I knew this, with every ounce of sanity I had left, but I couldn't help but linger in the memory a while longer, loving and hating how easy it was to replay the blissful moments in my head.

It took me some time to finally pull my eyes away, hesitating as I put the picture back into my backpack, which I threw in the closet along with my suitcase. I drifted around the room, not sure of what to do next, and as I looked around for a distraction, my eyes passed over the digital clock on the nightstand. It hadn't even been a complete hour yet. Sighing as I carelessly threw myself at the bed and hugging myself into the soft pillows, I thought about taking a nap for a brief second, but knew there was no point in even trying because of how restless I got in the morning. I turned over on my back, noticing the crumpled blankets as my feet shifted against them. Once again sighing, I rolled off the bed to fix the sheets and comforter, finishing much too quickly for me to ponder on what to do after.

I must have spent five minutes walking around the whole house as I searched for more ways to waste my time. I thought about reading in the library, but the idea of staying in one place for so long sounded too unpleasnt at the moment. I passed by the game room, but again I was too bored to even play games. I went around the kitchen and living room a couple times, and eventually went back upstairs, about to walk into my room, but instead walked into the bathroom when I noticed the shower. Maybe it would be a good idea to use it after being stuck in a train all day, squeezing through tons of sweaty people at a train station, and well, after last night-Yes, that actually sounded like a wonderful idea.

Of course, me being the paranoid person I am, locked the bathroom door and didn't bother taking my time as I turned the shower on and stripped down, stepping in right after. I kind of regretted not waiting for the shower to warm up though when the cold water hit me, making me flinch, but I forced myself to get used to it. I still didn't feel completely comfortable about using the things in this house as if they were my own, so I was hesitant when using the shampoo, or even staying in there for a long time. I was good at keeping showers short though, and I learned how to save things like shampoo and soap to make them last me longer. It came in handy when you had a tight budget.

After wrapping a towel around my waist, I rushed into my room for a change of clothes and my toothbrush, getting dressed before I went back to brush my teeth. I left my hair alone to air dry, like I always do, and then once again, there was nothing left for me to do. What is it with this house that leaves me bored all the time? I wasn't used to not having anything to do at home, mostly because there was always something to clean or someone to speak with. For once in my life, I was bored with nothing to do, in a house that seemed to have everything a kid could want. Why do I want something else then? Why couldn't I just act like a normal, bratty, hormonal teenager and want the same thing as everyone else? They seemed to always know and get what they want. It sounded easy enough.

The sad part is, anytime I do lash out, if only a little, I feel so terrible and so guilty that I apologize right after. I was never good at holding grudges, and it was one of the main reasons why I was so eager to please during my mother's time of illness. I felt that if I occupied my time with making sure Mother was at her most comfortable, I wouldn't have to worry about her saying or doing anything to tick me off in my already stressful state. It was also my way of making amends if I did ever snap back in any way. Really, this was my remedy for any regretful situation I put myself into; to be as nice and helpful as possible. I didn't need the extra weight of pissed off people hanging on my shoulders. It was better to just do what people asked of you without any outward complaints.

I got my head chewed out by Winry the last time I said this. She told me that was the reason why people walk all over me. My answer was that was the reason why I have no enemies, and that seemed to shut her up.

Winry and I don't always see eye to eye. Her outlook on society had always been a little more harsh than mine. She had always believed that there was no right for food to be on your plate if you did not sincerely work to earn it. She saw most people - especially from the city - as lazy and stuck up. The fact that she felt so above many people in the ways of living made it difficult to dissuade any of her opinions, as well as telling her what she needed to do. Winry was the one who told you what to do, not the other way around. She had always been the type of girl who refused to take no for an answer, the only one able to boss her around being her grandmother, Pinkako, which probably explains where Winry got her domineering attitude from.

I always grinned at the thought of Winry's short-temper and how similar it was to Brother's. Life had always been so entertaining when Winry and Ed clashed, their never-ending bickering, though slightly scary, keeping my attention on them locked for hours. I miss so much the days we spent as children, racing over the hills as we played for hours on end, hugging and shoving, giggling and fighting. We used to be so close. All those years ago I never expected those bonds to be broken so easily.

The time continued to tick away, and I found myself lying haphazardly on the couch, dictionary in hand as I listened to my banged-up iPod. It was a matter of minutes before I felt myself start to nod off, and I barely registered in my mind that maybe a nap would be a good thing before I was out cold.

~//~

A sharp, high pitched ding brought me back from my slumber, and it took me over ten seconds to realize the dinging was a doorbell. I confusedly stood up, a little too fast for my half asleep head, and walked over to the front door. I peaked out through the peep hole. There was a girl, her back turned from the door as she looked around. She looked harmless I thought, so I didn't second guess myself when I opened the door to greet her.

She turned around, and I immediately caught the surprise on her face, but only for a brief moment. She smiled politely and I was slightly taken aback when she lifted up her hand, and in a soft voice said, "Hello. I'm Rose." I shook her hand, and then she gave me an expectant look. I stuttered out my reply once I realized she was waiting for a name, and I had been gawking at her this whole time.

"O-Oh, I'm A-Alphonse. Alphonse Elric." Recognition crossed over her face at my introduction, and I felt a little more at ease as I noticed her smile become a little brighter. She had a pretty smile I noticed, as well as a pretty face.

"You're Ed's brother." It wasn't a question, and I was instantly curious to know more about who this girl, 'Rose', was since she seemed to know me.

"Yes. I just moved in here. Yesterday, actually." I stated, my speech coming out a tad better now that I've gained my bearings.

"Really? Ed never mentioned you were going to be living here..." She trailed off.  
"Oh, well he's not - well he doesn't know I'm here." I said hesitantly, not sure if I should be telling her this. I started to get worried when that pleasant smile she had on her face started to fade away, a perplexed look painting over her features instead.  
"He doesn't know? How does he not know? Where is he?" I was really starting to question if I should be telling her all this.

"You don't know?" I slowly asked, being cautious not to say the wrong thing. This question only seemed to further throw her off, and I contemplated elaborating for her. "He's on some kind of school trip. He wont be back 'til Wednesday." I told her. She was silent for a while, looking a little miffed, even slightly hurt. I still wondered how she related to Brother, so I summoned up the courage to break the sudden silence, "Um, I don't mean to sound rude, but, what are you doing here, exactly?" Her eyes softened once again, and she gave me an apologetic look.

"I was looking for Ed. He hasn't spoken to me for a few days, so I decided to go out looking for him." She said, the sad tone in her voice not going unnoticed.

"Oh. So you're a friend of his, right?" I asked.

"Yes. Well, girlfriend actually."

~//~

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified on my first day of grade school. It was the first time I was being parted from Brother, and I knew no one else as I took my first step into the room filled with small youthful children, some with with splitting grins slapped onto their faces, others with small pouts as their weary eyes watered at being left alone so suddenly. I'm proud to say I wasn't the latter of the two traits, though I'm not so pleased to admit I wasn't running up to every interesting kid I saw and animatedly introducing myself with sparkling smiles. I merely sat alone, quiet and attentive as I awaited for the day of teaching I expected to begin.

I was fairly disappointed when our first recess rolled around that I did not learn anything new from the lady who stood at the front of the classroom, speaking a little more loudly and slowly than I would have liked. Father had already taught me how to count to ten, and even farther than that. I new my ABC's by heart and didn't need pictures of apples and tigers to help me know where said letters were to be placed. My writing was fine, and my ability to speak correctly outshined my fellow students without tribulation. It seemed all my classmates picked up on this quick, as I'd often receive awed stares from the kids sitting next to me when we'd read aloud, or solve math problems involving the simple numbers "one and two".

I was grateful for never being considered a "nerd" or "loser" in school, merely being acknowledged as "the smart kid," which was completely gratifying with me. Yet, even with this luck of not being shunned in an act of inequity, I still lacked actual friends to play with, to talk to, to sit with at lunch. I may have been smart for my age, but I still wasn't that likable kid everyone enjoyed talking to. It didn't help I hated confrontation. I don't remember much from my kindergarten years, because there wasn't much to remember in the first place, but I do recall a small period of time in which I was able to say I did have a friend. A best friend.

I don't remember her much. Not even her name. Just that she was my closest friend at school. She showed up in the middle of the year, looking just as lost as I, content to hide out in the shadows. She was only there for a day before she went up to me at my place on the seesaw at recess, and simply asked in a small voice, "Can I play with you?" Until the end of November, from that day, for twenty six days, I was proud to say I'd made my first best friend at school, all on my own. I was sad to see her go, especially since I didn't understand why she was leaving.

We didn't leave each other with much, just dramatic promises that we wouldn't forget the other. Her last day at that school was spent with plenty of giggles and tears, and when the time rolled around for our parents to pick us up, I was as distraught as a five year old can be. Our goodbyes weren't dragged out, for our parents were standing off to the side, almost impatiently watching as they waited to take us back home. It was easy for me to ignore the intent stares I received from Mother and Brother as I bid my best friend farewell. She had cried a single tear before smiling and hurriedly leaned in to kiss my cheek and sloppily missed and got my nose instead.

Brother hadn't been as sympathetic as I had hoped, and every time I mentioned her, his replies were vague and chaste, easily slipping me into another topic. For a long while, I wondered about his behavior toward the girl I had considered my best friend, until it dawned on me years later that Ed had been jealous. Of course, even long after this discovering, Brother would never admit to such feelings. He was much too prideful on things such as his feelings to do that.

Ed and I had both been equally jealous children, though Ed expressed it more often than I did, only because I was too ashamed of myself to do so. Being enviable didn't settle well with me, and I was sure to try to trick myself into believing I felt no such thing every time I felt the slightest shudder of discontent from such thoughts beginning to roam in my mind. It didn't feel right, and I would call Ed out on it every time he stated something was unfair, be it because another boy had a toy he didn't, or because Winry wanted to be on my team when we played war. I never knew how ugly and brutal of a monster envy could be though until this day.

Nevertheless, I did what I do best, and pushed my unwanted emotions aside for the sake of not displeasing others. My conversation with Rose took a strange turn, and I soon found myself walking down the sidewalk with this pretty brunette at my side after she insisted she show me around. I wanted to decline, really I did. I had fair enough reason too. What if Father were to come home and I not be there? I had no way of informing him of where I'd be. Still, this didn't deter Rose from her persistence to get me out of the house, and she left a simple note on the kitchen counter which I did not get the chance to read. She dragged me away from the fancy house I was residing in, leading me into the unfamiliar streets that wound around tall houses and buildings, crossing into even more winding and busy streets, carrying with it big and small vehicles as well as rushing pedestrians. Nervous was an understatement to how I was feeling right now.

I glared in awe at the amount of people in the streets, some looking like they were in a hurry while others strolled along texting on their cells. "Do people always walk out into traffic?" I asked incredulously. Rose laughed lightly and gave me a teasing look.

"How else would they get around? Not everyone can afford a car you know." She went on to explain how she walked around this part of the city often because of its closeness to the university she was attending. It turned out she was a freshmen in college, which led me to further wonder how she met Brother, but I didn't dare ask, though I knew she saw the question written on my face as she informed me of her current schooling.

I found out quite a bit about Rose in the short time I've gotten to know her. I found out she was very passionate about her religion, which again, made me question her relationship with Brother, for I knew he would forever hold strong doubts about any such god claiming reign over us humans. I learned of her past boyfriend who had been an older guy and passed away in a tragic accident. She didn't go too far into detail about him. I was surprised to find out she had only moved into this city a year ago, seeking to forget about the loss of her first love and start a better life. Again, she did not delve into that topic so much, and I could see the dark shade of depression lurking beneath her eyes as she softly spoke of it. I made to change the subject, and filled her in with little tidbits about of my life back at home.  
My anxiety at being out on the streets slowly ebbed away as our mindless chatter went on. I couldn't remember the last time I allowed myself to get lost in a simple discussion this way, and I was happy to admit that it felt... nice. It wasn't as lonely as the brief bickerings between Winry and I after a day of chores that would soon only lead to more chores. Here, talking with Rose, I was able to speak at my leisure, to express my thoughts and opinions, to hear thoughts and opinions. For once, someone was listening to what I had to say, truly working to understand me. It was almost like...

Having a friend.

I enjoyed myself as Rose and I walked around, smiling real smiles, and laughing real laughs as we entertained each other with continuous chitchat. It soon came to the point where Rose began to pull me into shops, sifting through merchandise that we both knew we would not buy as we passed on from shop to shop. I got the chance to buy Arthur his litter box and food though with the money Father left for me on the counter when we passed a pet store. Rose didn't question me and went on to drag me along the shopping center. It was my turn to pull Rose around though when I spotted a library around the corner, and I eagerly raced over to it with Rose quick on my heels.

I couldn't recall the last time I had properly been in a library. Most books I read were the ones Father left behind, or ones given to me by Aunt Pinako. You could say I was more than thrilled as my eyes skimmed over the spines neatly lined up on these old wooden shelves that were tall enough for my fingers to just barely be out of reach of the third from the top shelf. Several titles popped out at me and made my eyes light up as I easily forgot where Rose wandered off to. I happily trailed along the catagorized rows of books for another five minutes, until I was pulled out of my reverie by a sudden weight thrown against my legs, making me jump in surprise. I looked down to find a small little girl in pigtail braids staring up at me with wide eyes from her place on the ground.

"Oh. Hello." I greeted her softly, kneeling down to be eye level with her. "Are you alright?" For a moment she continued to blankly stare at me, until a smile cracked on her face, and she brightly beamed up at me with a giggle.

"I'm alright. I'm strong," She stated, then added as an after thought, "Like bigger brother!" She squealed. Was "Bigger Brother" her older brother maybe? Where was he then? This little girl had to have a guardian here with her somewhere. I gave her a curious look.  
"Who's Bigger Brother?" I asked her.

She giggled again before answering,"You, silly!" My brows forward even more at this and I was about to open my mouth to speak when a sudden voice beat me to it.  
"Nina, I told you not to run off like that." We both looked over to find a man with round glasses walking up to "Nina" who barely looked guilty. "What have you gotten into this time?"  
"I was only saying hi to Bigger Brother." She stated innocently. The man, her father I assume, gave her an odd look that quite resembled mine and turned his gaze over to me. His eyes seemed to widen in surprise behind his glasses, and once again, I was taken aback by what was said.

"Alphonse Elric. I didn't expect to see you so soon." His shock faded away into a small smile, though the same couldn't be said for me.

"I-I'm, sorry. Do I know yo-" I started.

"Oh, where are my manners? I do apologize. I'm Shou Tucker. I work with your father. He informed me you'd be living with him not too long ago. When did you move in?" I merely gawked at the man in front of me for another moment. I couldn't believe that the first few people I met in this city besides my father already knew who I was. When I finally realized I had been asked a question, I was hesitant to answer. This man may know my name, but I had no idea who he really was. He said he worked with my father, but was that supposed to mean anything? I'm sure the warning "stranger danger" wasn't drilled into our heads just for us to brush it off.

"Uhh... Um..." I sputtered smartly.

I was relieved when he raised up his hand to stop me from making a bigger idiot of myself. "That's alright, you don't have to tell me anything. We did just meet after all." I gave him a sheepish smile before I felt a tug on my pants.

"Bigger Brother is gonna come play with me now, right?" Nina asked as she looked up at me expectantly.

 

"I'm sorry about that. I'm surprised she even knew who you were." Mr. Tucker told me.

"Um, if I may ask, why does she call me Bigger Brother?" I inquired.

"Because you're bigger than "Big Brother" I'd assume." He chuckled lightly.

"And who is Big Brother?"

"Why, who else? Edward of course." I was a little dumbfounded by that answer. It was soon replaced though by a warm feeling, and I couldn't help but smile. I spoke with Mr. Tucker and Nina a while longer, and I truly did enjoy their company. Nina seemed to have taken an instant liking to me and she refused to let go of my hand the entire time. Her smile was contagious as every word that poured from her mouth excited her by the second, her eyes glowing as she gazed up at me. I didn't mind, and somewhere in the back of my mind I couldn't help but think of another little girl with a brilliant smile and dazzling eyes to match. A little girl whose name was lost to me. It was with this thought that I joyfully agreed to Nina's insistence that we be best friends "forever and ever" as she put it.

Rose caught up with me not long after, and I took that as my queue to say my goodbyes. Nina looked heartbroken and I almost panicked until she asked me, "You'll come back to play with next time, right Bigger Brother?" Of course, I promised her yes, knowing I'd be held to my word by not only Nina, but myself as well.

When we left the library, it was hard not to miss the dark clouds rolling in or the heavy winds picking up. The once filled streets were now bleak with the lack of cars and people traveling across it, the only ones occupying it hurrying to get safely indoors from the coming storm. I thanked my luck that Rose knew her way around this city, for if I was alone I'd surely get lost in this worsening weather. We practically ran back to my new home, arriving just before the first droplets of water began to fall. That was when it dawned on me that Rose couldn't possibly walk home in this weather. I was quick to bring this up, but she merely shrugged it off, stating it wasn't her first time walking out in the rain like this. I still insisted she stay, even after she sternly declined my offer, yet somehow I knew she would not budge. I regretfully let her go, and she had to yell back at me to close the front door as she briskly walked away.

I began to pace around the house as thoughts about something bad happening to Rose filled my mind. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to her on her way home. I was the gentleman here, wasn't I supposed to be the one to walk her home? The more I dwelled on it, the more helpless I felt, knowing there was not much I'd be able to do in the first place. I didn't know this town or what it had to offer in its rainy days. I couldn't help Rose even if I wanted to. I groaned at this, flopping down on the couch, ready to take a fitful nap, until a high pitched cry startled me from my seat. I knew what it was immediately, and I bolted to the front door, yanking it open for a furry little creature to come dashing in.  
Arthur was slightly wet as he sat on the ground to clean himself, and I would have felt bad if not for the funny way in which his fur stood up on his head. I grinned stupidly as I watched him, and he must have felt my gaze, because I was soon being glared daggers at by a wet kitten. I chuckled before I scooped him up and trudged upstairs, dragging my feet to my own room. I laid Arthur onto my bed before stretching out onto it myself, content to stay there for the remainder of the day, easily forgetting that I was still in clothes and that Father had yet to arrive home. I believe I earned such luxury after all I went through today.  
Who knew I'd meet people so quickly? It was strange how sudden it all was, maybe a little discouraging even. I didn't expect to make any friends in this city - in fact, I didn't expect much of anything to come of this city. I couldn't possibly be welcomed here, for I didn't belong here. I knew this, like a baby knew when they were tired, and I never counted on getting used to calling these parts my own. After today though, I couldn't help but doubt my previous beliefs. Today, I was welcomed, by strangers no less. It was inane for me not to notice the obvious hospitality brought to me by these amiable people, even if they were few in numbers.

What is a friend? A person one knows well and likes. For the longest time the only being that fit this description was Winry Rockbell, the only one I could call friend back at home. Who knew I'd finally be able to say differently?


End file.
